Darker than BLACK: Apocalypse Trigger
by Invision
Summary: It has been two years since Kana Shino had last seen Hei. Yet her peaceful days in a world without Contractors is about to end - as the stage is set for the release of the Hell's Gate, and the imminent destruction - or salvation - of the world.
1. Prologue

_Hello to all my readers, and _Darker than **BLACK**_ fans! This is the first of my (very) sparse author's notes_—_but I feel the need to clarify that this particular story is not based off the events following the anime, but are rather a continuation of the first manga, in an "alternative universe" of what may have happened should Kana Shino again cross paths with the "Black Reaper," Hei. As such, it will contain references from both the anime and the first manga, so having some knowledge of both will ensure that the reading of this story will go smoother. But enough of my rambling; I present to you..._

* * *

**Darker than BLACK: Apocalypse Trigger**

Prologue

* * *

_The ominous night sky loomed over a Tokyo that was darkened by shadow. Streetlights strained hopelessly to pierce through the gloominess, yet only served to punctuate it with a wane, yellowish glow. A stifling sort of silence draped over the city at night, and few dared to rise up from the safety of their blankets to challenge its oppression._

_It was now that the Black Reaper emerged to do his work._

_Hyperventilated gasps could be heard from a figure running along those darkened streets—hunted by someone who was swathed in those very shadows._

_The man sprinted into an alleyway, dodging and weaving past trashcans, cracked bottles and rusty bicycles, tipping several of them over in a desperate attempt to deter the assassin who was steadily closing the distance between them._

_In his haste, he nearly ran into a parked car—and then with a grin and a wave of his hand, he crushed the vehicle into a steel ball and flung it at his pursuer, red Contractor eyes gleaming in the dark. He saw the wreck hurtle into the assassin, smashing him into a wall._

_"Heheh," he smirked. "That takes care of hi—…urgh!"_

_His head jerked back and he felt the cold steel of a dagger pressing against his throat. "You—…!" he gasped out. "How did you…"_

_"Cut the crap," came a quiet voice. "Where is the disc?"_

_"I—I don't have it. I only—…"_

_"Bullshit. Where is it?"_

_"I swear I don't have it! It was passed along to another agent half an hour ago—"_

_"Seems like he's telling the truth—or most of it," interrupted another voice, this time from a microphone pinned on the lapel of the assassin's coat._

_"Then he's a dead end."_

_"What? No, don't get ahead of yourself here, he still has his uses."_

_"Please," interjected the man still in the assassin's grasp. "I swear, I would have given you the disc if I had it—"_

_"Spoken like a true Contractor…your own life above loyalty. You sicken me."_

_"Hey, Hei, don't bother killing him—"_

_A shrill scream pierced the silence of the night, and the sickeningly sweet scent of burnt flesh drifted on the breeze._

_The assassin released his grip on the man, and watched as he crumpled to the ground, electricity still sparking off his clothes._

_"Geez, Hei…you just had to kill our only lead, didn't you?"_

_"I've always told you that Contractors were liars and traitors, haven't I, Huang?"_

Kana jolted awake with a gasp, her hand clutching her pounding heart. She noticed the rumpled blankets pooling around her legs, and with a shuddering breath, wiped her forehead on the sleeve of her nightshirt.

"What a horrible dream…"


	2. Chance Encounter

**Night 1: Chance Encounter**

**

* * *

**

Kana knelt down at her mother's grave, carefully placing a bouquet of white lilies on the altar. "I hope you're well, Mama," she whispered, her eyes misting over with tears and memories.

_It's been two years since Mama died, Krang and Misa disappeared, and Hei…_

At the thought of the raven-haired Contractor, she shook her head quickly. _I can't dwell on him any longer._

"I'll come visit you tomorrow, Mama," Kana said, and turned to leave the cemetery.

* * *

_"__Target acquired."_

_"__Is that her?"_

_"__Yes."_

_"__Good. Follow her, then."_

_

* * *

_

As she stepped into the bustling streets of Tokyo, Kana bumped into a young man who was hurrying past her with several packages in his arms. The boxes spilled all over the pavement, and she leaned down, gathering what she could and apologizing profusely.

"I—I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—…"

"No," said the man, smiling ruefully, "It's not your fault; I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Still—"

"Please, don't worry about it."

"A-Alright then."

He smiled again and continued on his way, soon disappearing into the crowd. Kana watched him go, her eyes lingering on his head of black hair. _Just like…_

She paused for a moment, wondering about the man and why he had seemed so…_familiar_ to her. _I know I've seen him somewhere…_

Kana gasped and whirled around, chasing after him even though she could no longer see his silhouette amongst the throng of pedestrians.

"Hei! _Hei!_"

Kana reached the crosswalk and looked around frantically, but the faces of the people walking past her were not the one she was searching for. "Hei!" she screamed again, oblivious to the odd glances at her from passersby—but he was gone.

* * *

_"__So…she's found BK201 at last."_

_"__What is the plan of action?"_

_"__We'll have to terminate her before she meets him again."_

_"__When?"_

_"__Tonight, of course…"_


	3. The Black Reaper

**Night 2: The Black Reaper**

**

* * *

**

"Kana! You're back!"

Kana started, looking up from the shelf of merchandise that she was browsing over. Her shoulders relaxed slightly when she saw a recognizable figure waving at her—an old friend from high school, Akino.

"Kana, how are you?" Akino called as she hurried over.

"I-I'm fine," Kana replied, straining a smile.

"You seem distracted," Akino said with a concerned frown. "Are you really feeling alright?"

"Yeah…I thought I saw someone I recognized, but he disappeared before I could figure out who he was."

"Oh!" Akino said, winking knowingly. "Was he cute?"

"Wha—…"

Akino grinned, and eventually Kana had to laugh.

* * *

Nightfall came quickly as Kana made her way back to her apartment room. She was shivering as she pulled out her key from her handbag and pushed it into the door lock, nearly dropping it from the cold stiffness in her fingers. _Why is it so cold…?_

Then she opened the door and saw the water that was slowly freezing over covering the floor, and the blond, beige-suited man who lounged lazily against the wall.

Her eyes widened.

"You…N-November 11!"

"Oh?" answered the British MI-6 agent as he pulled off his sunglasses and slowly folded them. "I'm surprised you still remember me. It's been such a long time, hasn't it…Kana Shino?"

Kana heard the crackle of ice forming, and jumped back just as a stalagmite of frozen water impaled the spot where she had been standing a mere second ago.

She heard the sound of clapping and glanced up sharply. November 11 walked steadily towards her with an unpleasant smile on his face. "Impressive…yes, very impressive," he noted. "The fact that you were able to avoid that means your reflexes are quite well-developed. Of course…"

He gestured toward her feet, and Kana gasped.

"…Not well-developed enough, obviously."

Kana thrashed about against the ice that froze her shoes to the floor, but no matter how hard she struggled, she could not break it.

"A valiant effort, but useless," said November 11 as he passed by her, laying a hand on her shoulder and pulling out a cigarette from a box inside his jacket.

"It's best, for the both of us, that you go to sleep."

Kana stood paralyzed with terror as the moisture above her skin slowly solidified into ice and spread down the length of her arm. "No…" she whispered.

Then a line of steel wire wound itself around November 11's neck—and the room was illuminated black and white with the discharge of an electric shock.

"Gugh…!" choked out November 11, his hands clawing at his throat.

The ice around Kana's feet thawed away, and she twisted around. "Hei!"

"Ugh…_haa_…BK201, huh? My, but you're a persistent one!" he snarled, kneeling down and forming three icicles from the water around his fingers, then hurling them at the masked Contractor. Hei pulled out a sickle and dagger from the folds of his trench coat and deflected the projectiles, but by the time he angled his arm to fling the knife at November 11, the MI-6 agent had already crashed through the window and fled.

"Damn," muttered Hei, then turned his attention toward Kana. "Your arm. How is it?"

"I…I can't feel it," she whispered.

Hei rolled up the sleeve of Kana's shirt, then carefully examined the grayish, blistered flesh for a moment. "It's serious, but it won't require amputation," said Hei at length as he rolled her sleeve back down and pulled her to her feet.

"What—"

"It's no longer safe for you here. November 11 will be back to kill you, and we need to treat your frostbitten arm before it gets any worse."

* * *

November 11 watched as two figures—one clad in black, the other in white—hurried away from the apartment. "Run, BK201…run while you can, but there is nowhere you can hide," he murmured, lighting a cigarette and rubbing his throat where the metal thread had left a deep imprint.


	4. The Syndicate's Dog

**Night 3: The Syndicate's Dog**

**

* * *

**

The rain streamed endlessly down the windowpane, carving trails of silver through the caked dust.

Hei watched Kana as she lay asleep on the soiled mattress, her shirtsleeve rolled up to expose the raw pink flesh of her right arm. After a moment he took off his coat and laid it over her body, and then stepped outside into the storm.

"Of all the places you could have gone to, you had to choose this dump, huh?" a voice said from the shadows.

"Good morning, Huang," answered Hei without a glance at the portly, cigarette-smoking man.

"Hmph," grunted Huang, spitting out a wad of tobacco-stained saliva. "If you don't mind me asking, why the hell did you save that girl last night?"

"If MI-6 is after her, she must be someone of importance," said Hei.

"Are you trying to bullshit me? She's worthless to the Syndicate. If she wasn't, I would have picked up on it."

"She was involved with Wiegenlied two years ago."

"Quit playing stupid, you damn Contractor. Two years ago was two years ago, now is now. Get rid of her. Kill her, throw her body into a ditch, I don't care what you do, but get rid of her."

"How thoroughly heartless of you, Huang," came another voice, this time from a Siamese cat that perched itself primly on a nearby fencepost. "You order her death as if you were a Contractor yourself."

"Don't compare me to your kind, you piece of shit," snarled Huang. Pointing at Hei, he continued, "I'm saying this to save my ass. If the Syndicate finds out that you're acting without orders, they'll string my head up on the wall as well as yours."

Hei tilted his head downward in submission. "Fine."

Huang grunted again and, pulling out an umbrella from within his jacket, shuffled away from the Contractors into the deepening rain.

"Well, then," said the cat. "Shall we check up on the newest member to make it to our hit list?"

* * *

Kana stirred from her slumber, then blinked her eyes open and propped herself up with an elbow.

"Morning, sunshine."

Kana started as a cat jumped into her lap and curled up on her knees, its tail swishing from side to side.

"M-Mao?" she gasped, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Of course."

"But…you had black fur once. What happened?"

Mao examined a paw as he explained. "While I have the freedom to transfer my consciousness to any animal I choose, you should realize that my host will still age as normally as it would if I weren't in it. Eventually, I'd die along with the body I inhabit, unless I moved on to another host."

Kana stared at Mao blankly.

"Simply put," he sighed, "the black cat grew too old."

"Oh," she said, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "I see…I'm sorry, I'm still a bit…"

"It's fine," Mao answered. "By the way—now that you're up, you'd best give Hei back his coat, since he seems rather unwilling to take it himself."

"Oh!" she said again, finally noticing Hei, who was leaning against the wall and sharpening his knives. The curved, smoked-steel blade of the sickle captured her attention.

"Is that your replacement…?" she began, staring at it from her bed.

"Well," said Mao, leaping down from her lap, "he _is_, after all, the 'Black Reaper'. And, if I may add, you never did return the dagger he lent you."

"Ah," mumbled Kana, blushing furiously.

"It doesn't matter," said Hei, his eyes focused on the rhythmic movement of the whetstone against the edge of the blade. After a moment, he leaned back, examined the sickle and set it down on to the floor. Walking over to Kana, he picked up his coat and put it on.

"I'll be heading out to get you some breakfast," he said. "Stay here."

Hei opened the door and left, and Mao padded out with him.

* * *

"What do you think?" said Mao, as the two strode down the sidewalk in rain that was slowly lightening to a drizzle.

"If I'm to kill her?" Hei answered.

"You seem rather fond of that girl," noted Mao. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be quite so reluctant."

Hei was silent.

* * *

The afternoon arrived with gray skies and a heavy, unsettled dampness in the air. Hei led Kana—her thawed, formerly frostbitten arm in a makeshift sling—down the cramped, populated streets of the city into winding roadways of the residential districts.

"Where are we going?" Kana asked for perhaps the third time. And for the third time, Hei did not answer her.

"What's wrong with him?" Kana said, this time to Mao, who was hitching a ride on her good shoulder.

"Oh…thinking about 'business' as usual, I suppose," answered Mao slowly, picking his words with care.

"This is your apartment, right?" said Hei, breaking into their conversation.

"Yes…it is," said Kana. "But…why are we here? You said that November 11…"

And suddenly Hei's hand was masking her face and her back was pressed against the cold concrete wall, and she understood then.

"Hei? What—"

"Forgive me," he murmured into her ear.

Then Kana's world distorted and turned hazy—and darkness, like a curtain, descended.


	5. Where Am I?

**Night 4: Where Am I?**

**

* * *

**

The alarm clock blared out in the silence, its loud bleeps penetrating Kana's sleep-clouded mind. She reached up, fumbling around blindly until her hand found the clock and turned it off.

Kana sat upright, slowly blinking and examining her fingers as if she had only just realized that she had them.

"Where…am I?" she murmured.

_The apartment,_ came a voice in her consciousness that seemed to take eons to reach her. _Your apartment._

"What happened…?"

_I don't know._

"Why don't I remember?"

_I don't know._

The phone rang urgently, but Kana hardly noticed it.

* * *

Throughout the day Kana saw her world through gray water. She floated through the daily activities of her life, absent and unthinking. She had lunch with Akino—after being admonished for not picking up the phone earlier that morning—and barely tasted the food. Akino noticed Kana's blank stare at her plate and asked, "What's wrong?"

"What?"

Akino put her fork down and looked at Kana in the eye. "You're not really…here. Something happened, Kana—what is it? Tell me."

Kana paused for a moment before answering. "I don't know. It feels like…I'm forgetting something…important."

"Oh," said Akino, twirling the fork thoughtfully. "Well, I'm sure you'll remember it soon."

* * *

An hour later, the two friends parted ways—Akino with one last concerned glance at Kana as she turned and headed back to her apartment.

A blond-haired man in a beige suit brushed past Kana's shoulder, quietly speaking to someone over a cell phone. Kana unconsciously reached into her purse, her hand tightening over something cold and sharp—_A dagger, _she realized, the thought flashing and twinkling through her mind like a meteor.

And suddenly, she gasped, little tatters of memories darting into her head from wherever they had been before.

_A cold, gray sky, stormy dampness lingering in the air…the warm weight of a Siamese cat, lounging on her shoulder. A man swathed in black, the bone-white mask gone from his face, his features sharp and watchful and suspicious. Two blades—a sickle and a dagger, just like the one she was holding desperately on to—were at his side._

_And then his hand is covering her face, and she is panicking and angry all at once—wondering if she is going to die, berating herself for not thinking that this would happen._

_That her memory would be wiped._

_And his blue eyes plead into hers, beg for forgiveness even as he utters that plea from his lips, and she slides…into…_

_Darkness._

"Are you alright?" asked the blonde man, his hand gripping her upper arm. His fingers, for some reason, are icy cold.

Kana squinted at him, trying to remember. Thought that this man might be…_important_, somehow.

"Miss?" the man asked again, concern in his voice—but not in his eyes.

"Yes, I'm fine," she replied shakily.

"Oh. I see. Well, take care then," he said, finally pulling away his hand.

Kana shivered for a reason she couldn't yet put her finger on, and hurried away.

* * *

November 11 watched her go, smiling to himself. Putting the phone back to his ear, he said, "Never mind about that. It seems our original target has had her memories wiped, so we shall resume going after her…"


	6. It Was Called Victim

**Night 5: It Was Called Victim**

* * *

"So you've dealt with her at last," said Huang as Hei chose a seat next to the haggard Syndicate agent.

"Rough night?" inquired Hei tonelessly, watching the harsh fluorescent lights strobe above them.

"Like you'd give a damn," grunted Huang, reaching inside his pants pocket and pulling out a packet of cigarettes. "You look like shit too, in case you're interested in knowing that."

Huang shook out a joint and lit it, despite the "No Smoking" sign pasted on the window to the right of his head. He inhaled deeply and then blew out the smoke, snuffing out the cigarette on the Plexiglas.

"You've got one more assignment to complete," said Huang, wiping away the ashes on his jacket.

"One of the Syndicate's Dolls has pinpointed the location of an information trade-off between an undercover CIA and MI-6 agent working in Pandora. It's up to you to find out exactly what that information is."

"And the location?" answered Hei.

"Are you familiar with the Rokkakkei District?"

"Yes."

"It'll take place in the Yōso restaurant. Third floor, private dining area. The building has six floors in all, so don't get yourself lost in there and screw this one up."

"Is this a document exchange?"

"Like hell if I know. If it's by word of mouth, find one of the informants and torture him until you get a good answer. I don't give a fuck what you do or how you do it so long as you return with results."

With that last remark, Huang allowed himself to relax a touch as the train doors slid closed and a female operator monotonously announced, _"The train is now departing. Please stay away from the doors. The train is now departing. Please stay away…"_

"How did the Syndicate come by this information?" asked Hei as an afterthought.

Surprisingly, Huang chuckled. "They still have eyes and ears in Pandora. It's just as you said—liars and traitors. All of them. All Contractors."

The train sped onward in the dark like a bullet.

* * *

Kana stared at the empty refrigerator, her fingers numbly exploring the bare shelves and sliding containers. The thought of going to the supermarket to buy some food briefly crossed her mind, but disappeared again just as quickly.

_Why…can't…I…remember?_

In frustration, Kana slammed the refrigerator door and slid down to the floor, cradling her head in her hands. Tears of exasperated anger welled up in her eyes.

"Why can't I remember?" she whispered, her voice rising into a scream. "Why can't I remember…why…why…_why_…_WHY!_"

A quiet knock on the door startled her, ceasing her tantrum.

"Excuse me," came a muffled voice through the wooden paneling, "Is anyone home?"

Lurching to her feet, Kana wiped her face and stumbled over to the door. She did her best to compose her features, then opened it—

And froze in terror, a chill running down her spine.

"Are you Kana Shino?" said November 11.

Trying to suppress the fear that twisted inside of her, she stammered out, "W-Why do you want to know?"

"A friend of yours—Akino, I think her name was—recommended that I see you. I'm Jack Simon, a trauma counselor."

"Trauma…counselor…?" said Kana dazedly.

"Ah, yes," answered November 11. "Here: My contact information." He pulled out a business card from his breast pocket and held it out to Kana. After a moment's hesitation, she took it carefully, as if the little slip of paper would freeze her fingers into ice.

_It looks legitimate, _she thought as she glanced over it, _but I guess someone like him could easily forge this…_

"I-I'm sorry," said Kana, putting on a rueful smile and handing the card back to November 11, "but I don't really need a trauma counselor." _Go away…please, please, just go away, leave me alone…_

"Oh, that's unfortunate," said the MI-6 agent, looking crestfallen. "Though it's not unusual for victims of trauma to try and handle their problems themselves…nevertheless, please, take the card. I'm always available in case you need my help."

"Thank you, I appreciate it, really—but I honestly don't need a trauma counselor," said Kana, her voice edged with panic. _Go away! Leave me alone! I need more time, time to think—_

"Alright, if you insist." With that, November 11 turned around and walked back to his car on the opposite street—a Mercedes, which Kana hadn't noticed earlier—stepping into a small puddle of water leaking from a garden hose on the way.

_Finally._ Kana let out a shuddering sigh and began to close the door, but the floor beneath her felt slick, almost like ice—and suddenly she was falling, hands outstretched, pavement rushing up to meet her—

She crashed into arms that enveloped her, stopping her descent. "Hei?" Kana murmured almost inaudibly, her body going weak with relief.

Then Kana heard November 11's voice in her ears, and she stiffened: "Miss, are you alright? You could have injured yourself very badly there."

Helping her back on to her feet, he continued, "You look terribly disoriented—really, you need help, even if you deny that."

"No, I…"

"Nonsense! I can't allow you another chance to possibly hurt yourself on accident."

"I'm fine!"  
"You haven't eaten much today, have you? Let's at least talk this over some dinner, then—it will at least help you to regain your composure."

"But—…"

"If you should refuse," said November 11 in a softer tone, "then I cannot guarantee your safety, or that of your friend's, Akino. You may end up hurting her, you know."

Kana could only stumble blindly, rigid with terror, as November 11 escorted her to the Mercedes.

* * *

The streets in the Rokkakkei District thrummed with nightlife as the privileged of Tokyo flocked to spend the evening among luxury restaurants, boutiques, and fashion stores. Six business complexes towered above the plaza, forming the shape that gave the entire borough its name: the Hexagon District.

By contrast, Yōso was a simple, five-story building. It was painted beige with its name embossed in a soft white glow from the spotlights fastened underneath. Tinted windows offered only a dim view of what was going on inside, and for an absurd moment, Kana wondered if she really was looking at one of the most famous restaurants in Tokyo.

November 11 led Kana through a crowd of waiting diners, his hand resting almost comfortably on her shoulder. Kana wondered what they must look like to bystanders: Perhaps a brother and sister, or a friend treating another to a nice dinner. A couple, even.

_Not someone held against her will by a Contractor, _she thought wryly.

November 11 opened the double glass doors and waved Kana inside. "Ladies first," he said with a smile.

Kana shot him a wary glance, but after a moment, she stepped through the entrance.

Then she stopped and gaped.

The interior space was warmly lit and paneled with dark wood, which gave the room a romantic feel. Plush booths lined the walls and tables dotted the center, each topped with fine silverware and china. Waiters weaved between seated diners, balancing plates and glasses on their shoulders. Everyone seemed to ooze finery, adorned in his or her best jewelry and clothes; Kana felt wildly underdressed.

November 11 took in Kana's awestruck expression with an amused smile, and led her toward a flight of stairs near the back of the room. A concierge behind a small podium stopped them and asked, "Do you have a reservation?"

November 11 nodded and pulled out his driver's license. "Yes, under 'Jack Simon'—a table for three."

_For three?_ Kana glanced up sharply.

The concierge looked at the card, nodded, and waved them upward.

November 11 kept a firm grip on Kana as they climbed up a second flight of stairs, reaching a dining area that was just as opulent as the previous two, if not a bit quieter. An elderly waiter received them with a smile and led them to a table, elegantly topped with a small rose vase, a peppercorn grinder and a shaker of salt.

"Anything to drink, sir, while you order?" asked the man was he handed them both a menu.

"A pot of jasmine tea, please."

"And for you, miss?"

"No thank you, I'm fine."

The waiter bowed and left.

"So," Kana said slowly, "you said that you reserved a table for three."

"I have," said November 11, flipping through the menu.

"Then wh—…"

"Your tea, sir." Hei walked up with a platter and placed a fine porcelain teapot and cups at the agent's elbow. Then he pulled out a pen and notepad. "Are you ready to order?"

"Ah, yes—I'd like to have the filet mignon with mushroom cream rice."

"How would you like it done?"

"Rare, please."

"And you?" said Hei, turning to Kana.

"I-I…uh…the spaghetti," she stammered, trying not to stare at him.

"What sort of pasta sauce would you like?"

Kana bit her lip, suppressing her surprise and disappointment; then said as calmly as she could, "Alfredo. Please."

"Alright then." Hei finished jotting down their orders on his notepad, collecting the menus. "I shall be back with your meals momentarily."

"Hmm," muttered the agent as Hei hurried away, "This tea is too hot. How irksome." He brushed the pot with his fingers, feeling it steadily cool.

"Hello, Simon," came a light, airy voice from behind Kana. A young Chinese woman, prettily attired in a simple white dress and sunhat, approached the table. Slung over her shoulder was a beige book bag, which she propped against a chair.

"Ah, Shiro!" said November 11, standing up to embrace her. "It's good to see you again. Please, sit with us."

"Of course! And who's this?" asked the newcomer as she took a seat, glancing at Kana. Kana noticed that her eyes were blue.

"Oh my, where are my manners?" said November 11, shaking his head ruefully. "This is Kana Shino, an acquaintance of mine."

"Is that so? Nice to meet you!" She smiled, and Kana started in shock. _This person looks almost like…_

"Oh, Simon—thank you for letting me borrow these references on Beethoven. I found them quite useful." She rummaged around in her bag and pulled out a hardcover book and CD, then handed them to November 11.

"Did you? I'm glad to hear that."

"You like classical music?" Kana said suddenly.

Shiro looked at Kana in surprise but answered, "Yes, I do—I'm especially interested in composers and their styles, although I'll never be as good as them."

"Nonsense!" scoffed November 11. He turned to Kana and said, "She's quite the maestro with a violin."

"Simon—!" laughed Shiro, shrugging off his praise.

"Would you like some tea, Shiro? It's jasmine," interrupted November 11, picking up the teapot and pouring its contents into a cup.

"Why, thank you!" she answered, gracefully receiving the delicate china. She puffed at the liquid for a few seconds and then frowned. "It's still hot."

"What?" November 11 narrowed his eyes and his hand moved toward the pot.

The lights suddenly flickered out and the other diners cried out in alarm. "So the guest of honor has arrived at last," murmured November 11. He glanced at the crowd of exiting customers and then nodded at Shiro, who quietly left the table.

The crash of breaking glass mingled with screams and Hei glided in, landing on the carpet. November 11 stood up, clapping slowly. "A very flashy entrance, BK-201." He picked up Shiro's teacup, swirling its contents. "You may, however, find yourself evenly matched tonight." Then his eyes glowed red and he hurled the cup at Hei—but the tea splashed harmlessly against the assassin's coat. November 11 stepped back in surprise; then a thought struck him and he snatched the teapot, dipping his fingers inside. "Salt!" he exclaimed. Without missing a beat, Hei drew his blades and lunged—

_BOOM!_

A sudden explosion hurtled him backwards and he landed heavily on his back. Hei rolled to his feet, daggers flashing, before he froze in shock.

A young woman stood before him, prettily attired in a simple white dress and sunhat.

"Bai?"


End file.
